


The Jump

by keyrousse



Series: Wieśkowe historie/The Witcher stories [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: (for The Witcher), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Not permitted to display outside AO3, Telepathy, Time Travel, space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyrousse/pseuds/keyrousse
Summary: Two time and space travellers bump into each other.
Series: Wieśkowe historie/The Witcher stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1088733
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s based on a very basic idea I have for ["Appearances"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511380/chapters/41250446) sequel. All that matters here is it’s a modern!AU on The Witcher side, I don’t reference “Appearances” (although, you know, you can go and read it if you haven’t yet) and provide no spoilers for it or the sequel. I have no idea whether this setting will make it into the final fic, as I haven’t even started writing it yet. I’m gathering ideas and waiting for my plot bunny to come up with the title. And the plot.  
> On "Doctor Who" side, it takes place between "Tooth and Claw" and "School Reunion".  
> And seriously, am I the first person who came up with the idea of Ciri and the Doctor meeting each other?

One blink and Ciri crashes into something wooden and blue, with a blinking light on its roof and a weird metallic sound coming out of it; she bounces off and lands on the sandy ground, her head spinning, hands and clothes covered in dirt.

The sound quietens; she hears the creak of a wooden door opening and then a soft male voice saying:

“This is definitely not the place I wanted to go to!”

The voice pauses. She looks up and sees a tall, thin man with brown hair and dark, warm eyes, now wide with surprise; he’s dressed in a brown, pinstripe suit and white plimsolls.

“But apparently the place I’m needed,” he murmurs and doesn’t move towards her, keeping his hands by his sides, like he’s making sure he doesn’t look threatening. He glances around while she props herself up on her hands and starts to back away from him, her heart hammering in her chest from adrenaline.

“Nonono, don’t move, this planet is pretty much uninhabitable,” the man startles, raising his hand towards her, fingers spread. “No air, probably the reason the TARDIS brought me here, there’s a bubble of air around us, you cross it and you suffocate.”

Ciri stops and stares at him.

He speaks perfect Common, firing the words at lightning speed, or she thinks he does. There’s a weird feeling in the back of her head she can barely recognise as a telepathic link. Something is translating whatever language he speaks.

The man straightens up and frowns.

“How did you end up here, anyway?”

“Who are you?” she asks at the same time, her throat tight.

“Time and space traveller, similar to you, I think,” he replies with a soft smile. “Only you can travel on your own, amazing feat, by the way, and I have this to do half the thinking,” he points to the blue wooden box behind his back. There’s a hum coming from behind the door and the man rolls his eyes. “Or more than half. I’m the Doctor, and who are you?”

“Ciri,” she says. There’s something trustworthy in the smile and the dark eyes of the man. He looks quite boyish despite clearly being in his mid-thirties; maybe it’s the disarray his hair is in, the freckles all over his cheeks, or maybe it’s the plimsolls that make him look like a student. There’s a kind of manic energy around him, but it only adds to the boyish look. She’s not afraid of him, for some reason.

Around them, the landscape is completely desolate, marked with craters; there’s no wind, no signs of life, and the clear sky with stars that don't blink only confirms the lack of atmosphere. Ciri can see a star that’s probably the planet’s sun, but it’s so far away there’s not much light.

“Doctor!” a female voice calls from the box and a blonde girl, only slightly older than Ciri, peeks out the door. “Oh.”

“Ciri, meet Rose Tyler,” Doctor says and approaches Ciri slowly. He holds out his hand for her to grab.

Ciri accepts his help. His fingers are long and bony, his grip is sure, but delicate to not crush her hand. His hand is cold.

 _He’s about Geralt’s height_ , she notices when they’re standing face to face, giving each other little smiles: her in thanks, his encouraging.

He’s thinner, though, so he seems smaller. He’s not working out, he looks more like a runner.

She brushes the sand off her clothes and takes a step towards the box.

“And what’s this?” Ciri asks and points at the blue box, standing in the middle of the alien desert. The telepathic link pulses slightly inside her mind, in rhythm of the hum from behind the door, like a heartbeat of a living creature. It’s so delicate she’s sure people unaccustomed to magic can’t even notice it.

“This is the TARDIS,” the Doctor replies, watching her. He makes a gesture inviting her inside.

Ciri approaches the box cautiously and touches the rough wood. She can see the interior is much bigger than what the exterior promises. She takes a deep breath.

Rose gets inside, eyeing her, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you, TARDIS,” Ciri whispers when she crosses the threshold. There’s another hum in the back of her head and she’s flooded with a warm telepathic feeling of gratitude.

So, the TARDIS is alive, or at least has a mind of its own.

“Oh, she likes you,” the Doctor says, entering the TARDIS after Ciri and closing the door. He goes past Ciri to the console in the middle of the large, circular room and she can see his manic energy goes mainly to the way he bounces. He’s probably pretty restless most of the time.

“Well, she does over half of the thinking here and she saved my life, least I can do is thank her,” Ciri shrugs and for the first time focuses on Rose, who is standing by the door, leaning on the railing and watching her. She’s dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a hoodie, and looks comfortable in them, so they’re not a costume put on at the last second, and are similar to what Ciri is used to, not something otherworldly. She’s sure Rose and the Doctor don’t share the universe with her, though. She can control her power enough to know she’s really far from home. “Hello, Rose.”

Rose smiles. It looks forced. Ciri can guess they don’t often have other time and space travellers here, not to mention the girl probably isn’t sure what to think about Ciri’s presence.

Ciri can’t blame her. She doesn’t know what to think either.

“Hi,” Rose replies and shakes Ciri’s offered hand. Her grip is firm, though, not painful: it’s a proper welcome. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Ciri says with a smile.

Rose goes deeper into the room, away from the door. Ciri follows her, looking around, admiring the sleek lines of the coral-like pillars. The interior is warm both in colour and temperature. There are dim corridors leading away from the room, but the most interesting is the console in the middle. The Doctor is currently bouncing around it, pulling handles and turning switches.

“Is there anywhere we can take you?” the Doctor asks, focused on his task. Rose stays close to him, watching Ciri while pretending to not stare. She’s not hostile, just surprised and confused. “Back to your world, if you have one?” the Doctor adds.

Ciri looks at him.

“There’s a story behind that question, isn’t there?”

She sees the Doctor and Rose tense up and look at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, waving her hand. She’s not sure what to do with her hands, so she just sticks them into her jeans pockets, her shoulders tense. “To be honest, I’m on the run; someone tried to kidnap me, and I have this power to jump between realities, and I used it and got quite lost,” she admits. “My dad’s probably worried senseless. Knowing him he blames himself, but I don’t know if it’s safe back home, so I really don’t know what to do. I was just… Jumping, trying to find some safe place to hide,” she finishes with a shrug. She's surprised by her outburst, but she has a feeling these people have seen a lot, so it’s hard to surprise them. She hopes they’ll believe her.

Rose and the Doctor glance at each other.

“How about you sit down, I’ll bring you some tea and we’ll figure out what to do,” Rose suggests softly, her initial shock subsided.

Ciri nods, because it’s the easiest thing to do under the circumstances.

She sits down on the sofa in the lounge area, leaning against the backrest; Rose brings her a tea smelling of chamomile and then sits on the edge of the sofa and watches the Doctor as he wears down a path in the floor in front of them.

“First thing would be letting your dad know you’re alive and safe,” he says, waving his hands around. Ciri can almost see a plan forming in his head. It’s so nice to have someone else do all the thinking for once. “I can’t imagine what he goes through right now, especially if he doesn’t know the kidnapping attempt was unsuccessful.”

“Am I? Safe, I mean?” Ciri asks, warming her hands on the mug of tea. She can’t look at him really, she just glances up, checking his reaction.

That roots the Doctor to the spot. He turns to her and looks at her with those wide eyes again.

“Yes,” he says with emphasis. “You are.”

“Sorry, I just…” Ciri begins, but Rose’s soft hand on her shoulder stops her.

“Don’t apologise,” Rose says, much gentler than Ciri would expect given the distance she tried to keep when Ciri entered the TARDIS. Her hazel eyes are warm, she’s smiling softly. “We get it, don’t worry, that’s the survivor thing. The TARDIS is probably the safest place in the universe for you right now.”

Ciri nods and takes a sip of the tea. It’s really chamomile, with a teaspoon of honey, the same she sometimes drinks at home. She slouches down the couch, and suddenly her resolve to be brave crumbles. Tears spill from her eyes, her hands start shaking and she can’t stop a sob from bubbling up. Too much time has passed since she’s been able to just sit down, drink tea and be safe.

Someone takes the mug from her hands and covers her shoulders with a fluffy blanket. She sees the silhouette of the Doctor through the blur of tears: he approaches her, crouches in front of her and puts a comforting hand on her knee.

“Listen, the TARDIS has telepathic abilities, I can see you easily connect with her,” he says gently. “If you allow her, she can look for your home and we’ll take you there, or at least try and contact your father.”

Ciri gasps and can’t reply, her throat’s constricted, she’s trying too hard to stop crying in front of those people she met - who saved her life - five minutes ago: the Doctor with a spaceship that is bigger on the inside, and the girl so much like herself in appearance. Something tells her the Doctor isn’t human, but it doesn’t worry her. Even the ever-present telepathic link doesn’t matter. There’s magic in her world, she spent gods only know how much time Jumping from planet to planet, and her dad, a mutated monster hunter, is in a relationship with a higher vampire. She’s seen it all.

Ciri doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she grabs at the blanket, then at the duvet covering the sofa. She knows that if she hides her face in her hands, nothing will be able to stop her from crying, even though she realises it’s a lost battle already.

The Doctor moves his hand from her knee to her arm and she sobs louder.

 _Let him, I need…_ she thinks and suddenly the sofa dips slightly next to her and there are wiry arms around her shoulders, a hand on her hair, lowering her head to the crook of someone’s neck, smelling of cinnamon. She lets go of the duvet and hugs the thin body dressed in the pinstripe suit, and she feels herself be rocked in the warm and safe embrace.

“Alright, all in good time,” the Doctor murmurs, his voice soft, and hugs her closer, and she can hear his heartbeat: not the strong drum of the witcher’s heart, four times slower than human’s, but a twin beat that is almost as reassuring.

She can feel the warmth of Rose’s hand rubbing her shoulder, she hears soft shushing noise, a repeated whisper of ‘everything will be alright’ and she just lets it all go.

She doesn’t know how long she cries, but in the end she barely registers being lowered to the couch and covered with a blanket. The Doctor and Rose leave her alone. She’s almost asleep when the TARDIS gives a strong lurch. She doesn’t know anything else.

* * *

“I’m pretty sure she’s unique in her world, too,” the Doctor says, his voice coming from the next room.

“How do you know?” Rose asks.

“How many other space and time travellers do we meet?” A pause. “And for her to jump worlds and realities is just a thought.”

“And yet she ended up on a planet without air.”

“How old is she? Sixteen? Seventeen? Unless she was trained since she was born, a power like this must be very hard to master.”

Ciri finds the Doctor and Rose in the kitchen, sitting on the opposite sides of the counter, eating toast and drinking tea. She yawns and tries to hide it behind her hand. She’s still wrapped in the blanket.

“I’m sorry for… before,” she says with a vague gesture, having no idea how much time passed.

“You’ve been asleep for four hours,” Rose supplies, stands up and gives her a mug of tea. Ciri sits down next to the Doctor.

“Do you want something to eat?” the Doctor asks, gesturing to the fridge.

“Not for now, thank you.”

She’s starving, to be honest: she doesn’t remember when she’s eaten last, but her throat is still tight, her stomach turned into knots and she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep down anything solid.

Judging by the look on the Doctor’s face, he can read right through her, but he decides to ignore it.

“We can try and find your home when you’re ready,” he says, his voice gentle. “It requires some telepathic snooping around, so you can prepare yourself before we start.”

“Like you think I have anything to hide? There’s nothing I’m ashamed of,” she replies, trying to not make it sound like she’s offended. It works, because the Doctor only gives her a small smile and a gentle pat on her forearm.

“Good. Drink some tea, meet us in the lounge; we’ll look for your home.”

Ciri takes a deep breath, watching the Doctor’s slim back as he leaves her alone, Rose right behind him.

She takes a sip of the tea; this one is not made as she likes it, it has milk in for some reason, but she welcomes the warmth in her belly. She spends the time calming herself down. She knows what awaits her and she’s not exactly eager to have someone looking for something inside her mind, but she knows it’s the only way to get back home. She has spent all her energy and has nothing left to go looking on her own, and the next time she ends up on an uninhabitable planet, she may not have the luck to crash into the Doctor and his blue box.

She glances around, takes a deep breath and lets herself think about gratitude, hoping the TARDIS will sense it and understand it’s directed at her. The soft hum at the back of her mind tells her she made her point. She smiles. She can hear a soft tune now, a song without words, a soothing melody, and she feels welcomed.

She joins the Doctor and Rose ten minutes later. They are already sitting on the sofa, the Doctor in the middle, Rose to the side; they’re talking quietly. Ciri plants herself on the other side of the Doctor, facing him, her legs crossed and her hands between her bent knees. The blanket still hangs off her shoulders like a cape.

“Are you ready?” he asks gently.

“As ready as I can be,” she replies with a resolute smile, watching his nice face with warm, now serious eyes. He’s not her type, wrong gender for starters, but she realises he’s handsome. She makes sure she doesn’t show even the slightest sign of personal interest, as she wants to be in Rose’s good graces, too, and the last thing she needs is to be considered a rival.

“All you have to do is let me in, alright?” he says. She nods; the Doctor puts his fingertips on her temples. They both close their eyes, concentrating.

Almost instantly, she gets the feeling of someone else’s presence in her mind. It’s far more solid than the TARDIS’ telepathic link, she can almost see the Doctor in her memories. He’s like a benevolent ghost, never really in full sight, just an image in the corner of her eye. He disappears from the memory once he’s checked what’s there, and he never looks too closely, just searching for details of her world. She tries to help him by imagining it: the maps she remembers from geography lessons, the cities she’s lived in: Cintra and Vizima. She thinks about all the people in her life: Geralt, being her anchor in difficult times, Yennefer and her magic, Regis and his soft smile, Zoltan and Dandelion, the rest of the Wolf witchers. She thinks of Geralt’s flat, of her school, her friends.

“Nice job, but you’re trying too hard,” the Doctor says and she can hear he’s smiling.

“Sorry, I tried to help you,” she admits, keeping her eyes closed.

“You did, but now just let me look around your images, let me lead you. I promise I won’t snoop around any deeper than what you’ve shown me.”

She doesn’t reply and focuses on the touch of his hands on her head. His presence in her mind now is like she’s taken his hand on a stroll in the park and now she can see what he sees, which is about the same as before, but more focused. He’s looking at the city and streets names on the maps, glimpses of a calendar, people walking the streets; he listens to heralds in the Vizima Castle and the squares in the Trade Quarter, he flies over the city walls and observes the landscape.

She realises it’s beautiful. There are places she can now see from a different perspective and they amaze her, even though she has seen so many different worlds recently. She had no idea she missed her own little neighbourhood so much.

It doesn’t take long before the Doctor withdraws from her mind gently, lets go of her, then just stands up and goes to the console, with Ciri and Rose close behind him. He types something in and beckons Ciri to join him.

Ciri and Rose stand behind his back and look at the monitor.

“This is it,” Ciri gasps, seeing the coordinates. “Is that the current time?”

“Yes, the date there,” the Doctor replies. There’s a certain edge to the way he says those four words.

“I’ve been gone for a month!” Ciri exclaims.

She had no idea it’s been so long. In some way it feels longer, but with the Jumps and time she’s spent in some of the visited worlds, it’s easy to lose the track of time.

“Do you remember your dad’s phone number?” Rose asks, like there’s no time to waste. A mobile - a small, black, slide-type device that went out of popular use years ago in her world - is already in her hand. Ciri nods. Rose looks at the area code and starts to type it in, but then she looks at the Doctor and pauses.

Ciri glances at him and is surprised at the stricken look on his face.

“I think I’ve been to your world before, a long time ago in your terms,” the Doctor says, staring at the monitor. “That white-haired man you showed me at the beginning, is that your dad?”

Rose stares at him, her eyes wide, mouth open.

“Yes,” Ciri replies, just as surprised. “Do you know him?” At his nod, she adds: “He’s never told me he’d met a space traveller.”

“Because that was roughly fifty years ago, in your world. I had a different body then, too. But in your memories, he looked only slightly older,” the Doctor admits with a frown.

“He’s not exactly human,” Ciri admits, not ready to dwell on the ‘different body’ part. “He ages much slower.”

“I see,” the Doctor nods and shakes himself, giving her a little smile. “So, how do we do this so he doesn’t start thinking we’re calling for ransom from the first second?”

The three of them look at each other. This is a real issue: with Ciri missing for a month, one wrong word can set off Geralt’s paranoia.

“If I start talking, he may not believe I’m fine,” Ciri admits and points at the Doctor. “If you start, it will be cursing and threats from the moment you mention me. It will be best if Rose calls him and cuts straight to the chase. Tell him you met me, I’m safe, then I’ll talk to him.”

Rose nods. Ciri gives her the rest of Geralt’s number.

“What’s his name?” Rose asks, her thumb hovering over the call button.

“Geralt Haute. I’m Cirilla Riannon-Haute.”

“Nice to meet you, Cirilla,” Rose smiles at her and pushes the green button. She takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself.

It takes only a few seconds for her to start:

“Hello, Mister Haute, my name is Rose Tyler,” she speaks fast enough to not leave any room for interruption. “My friend and I met your daughter, Ciri, she’s fine and safe, we’re bringing her home as soon as possible and you can talk to her right now,” she finishes and quickly passes the phone to Ciri like it’s burning her. Ciri takes it and smirks at Rose as she puts it to her ear.

“Dad?”

“Ciri,” Geralt exhales into the phone. There are some male voices in the background she doesn’t recognise. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m totally fine, I Jumped,” she assures him. “Got a little too far away from home, but I think I'm on my way back now,” she adds and glances at Rose and the Doctor, who look back at her with soft smiles. The Doctor nods, and his eyes are sparkling, like he’s happy they managed to find her home.

“Where are you?” Geralt asks, his voice trembling.

“I’m not sure, Rose and the Doctor found me on a planet without air, I’m with them now.”

“The Doctor?”

“Yes, he says that he met you a long time ago. Are you alright?”

“I am now,” Geralt replies and Ciri smiles at this. “Can I talk to the Doctor? Put me on speaker.”

She does and lays the phone between them.

“Hello, old friend,” the Doctor starts and Ciri glances at him, surprised. It takes a lot for Geralt to be called a friend; she’s instantly curious about the circumstances of their first meeting.

Geralt, being himself, apparently isn’t in the mood for a chat, and Ciri can’t really blame him.

“When can you bring Ciri home?” he asks.

“Any time you want,” the Doctor assures him. “Is it safe now? Ciri said she was almost kidnapped.”

Geralt pauses and Ciri realises that the trouble at home isn’t over.

“How much time can you give me?” Geralt asks, his voice softer.

“How much do you need?” the Doctor inquires and Ciri feels a chill of dread in her gut.

“Dad, I want to go home!” Ciri exclaims. “I want to see you!”

“You will, but it’s not safe here,” Geralt says with a strained voice. “Nothing changed on your part, Doctor?”

“Except I look different, no, Geralt, the TARDIS is all the same,” the Doctor replies. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll explain it to Ciri.”

Ciri looks at him, not understanding his meaning. All she knows is that these two know each other much better than she’d expect with what she’s heard so far, and it’s not a lot.

She notices he’s looking at her the whole time, like he’s checking her reaction. 

“I need a month. Bring her in a month,” Geralt says slowly and it’s like a punch to Ciri’s gut.

“Dad!” Ciri cries. She can’t believe he would leave her with these people for so long! She likes them, but she misses her home so much she’s close to combusting.

“It’s alright!” Rose puts her hands on Ciri’s shoulders. “We travel in time as well, it’ll make no difference to you.”

Ciri just shakes her head, her vision blurry with tears.

“See you then,” the Doctor says to the phone and asks Ciri: “Do you need to say anything else? I can give you a moment.”

“Dad, I miss you,” she sobs, but she doesn’t shake Rose’s hands off her shoulders. The girl embraces her in a loose, one-armed hug, easy to get away from, but still comforting.

“I miss you too, but now that I know you’re safe, I can burn them down,” Geralt replies and there is a sharp edge to his voice, the one she remembers from moments when he went on a hunt: either for a monster, or a criminal. “See you soon.”

“Be careful.”

“Yeah. Love you,” he finishes and disconnects the call.

“He sounded like he’s not going to be careful at all,” Rose murmurs, rubbing Ciri’s back.

“He sounded like a storm brewing,” the Doctor agrees. “I don’t envy anyone standing in his way.”

Ciri only nods, staring at the phone’s screen.

Rose moves away reluctantly. Ciri gives her a soft smile in thanks and rubs her eyes, getting rid of the tears threatening to spill again.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you doing this for me, but am I stuck in here for a month?” she asks slowly after a short pause.

“Time travel,” the Doctor says. “You can be stuck in here for as long - or short - as you want, we still bring you home a month from the date this conversation took place,” he points at the phone. “We can sit down and talk about our worlds and adventures, we can go somewhere and do some light sightseeing, or we can set the date on the console and take you to your dad right now. The TARDIS can be a little wonky when it comes to reaching the set destination, as she's intended to be piloted by six people, but now that we have three pairs of hands… Three is better than one. Or two, even.”

“The TARDIS’ wonkiness is what brought us to Ciri,” Rose reminds him as she puts the phone back in her jeans pocket.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad,” the Doctor agrees with a smile. “And she always brought us where and when we wanted when it really mattered.”

Ciri smiles.

* * *

They try to convince Ciri to visit Rose’s homeworld: her mum, to be precise. They suggest she can treat it like a sightseeing trip, or just an opportunity to sit down, drink tea, listen to Jackie’s babbling and relax. She’s tempted, to be honest, but it’s less about Rose’s homeworld and more about that if they take her back home immediately, she’ll lose a chance to get to know them better and they seem fun.

She’s not going to just agree without a fight, though.

“Oh, I don’t know. You promise a quiet afternoon, but you two look like proper troublemakers,” Ciri says with a smile, watching the Doctor bounce around the console as she presses on the button he told her to.

The Doctor is mock-offended.

“Trouble-finders at most,” he protests with a hand on his chest. “How about this: we go there, and at the first sign of trouble we get back on the TARDIS and take you home.”

She agrees to that and doesn’t change her mind despite the quite bumpy landing.

They open the TARDIS door to cold but sunny London, Powell Estate. They go directly to Jackie’s flat. The woman welcomes them, happy to see them, curious about Ciri and complaining about not having enough food for all of them.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jackie asks from the kitchen, looking at them as they settle in the living room. “Mickey said he found out something weird at some school and he needs your help investigating.”

The Doctor and Rose glance at Ciri, slouched in the armchair.

“We need to take Ciri home first,” the Doctor says, plopping down on the couch. “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow?”

“I really don’t want to be a bother…” Ciri starts, straightening up, but then Jackie scoffs, approaches her and puts a hand on her arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look like you need a lie down. Or tea, I can make you tea. We all know a good cup can work wonders,” she says, patting Ciri’s arm a little and shooting a glance at the Doctor.

Ciri swears the man actually blushes.

Rose snorts from her place on the couch next to him.

“Long story,” she says at Ciri’s questioning look.

Ciri has her tea - the milk actually grows on her - while she listens to Jackie’s babbling about all that is happening in the neighbourhood. Ciri has no idea what half of the things mean, but it doesn’t matter: it’s safe and domestic, and apparently just what she needs right now.

After a while, it’s too domestic, though. Ciri excuses herself, promises to not wander off too far and goes to the roof of the building, taking in the sight of the big city not too far away, the river, the airplanes, skyscrapers and the huge wheel.

It's different to what she's used to. In Vizima, the history of the old elven settlement peeks out at every corner and there are different races roaming the streets. As far as she’s seen, Earth is entirely human; it's not too alien, the technology and clothes are pretty similar. She knows that dozens of years ago the elven sages, the Knowing, used portals to different worlds and brought back some technological ideas, so her world could progress without magic, which was already restricted. It was her world’s technological boom, everything started from those few blueprints and some overly curious engineers who decided to accompany the Knowing to an entirely different world. In time, portals were replaced by airplanes, engine-powered vehicles replaced horses, electric current from renewable energy sources now flows across the whole world, there are mobile phones, computers, different types of medicine and weaponry.

The air here smells different, though, the buildings look weird. The telepathic link with the TARDIS is necessary for her to understand the people here. She'd get used to it all if she had to, but she's happy she doesn't.

Rose finds her on the roof an hour later. Ciri is properly frozen at the time, despite having put on the winter jacket the Doctor found for her in the TARDIS. She’s lucky she was wearing boots and long jeans when she Jumped from her world. The one set of clothes she’s wearing is all she has. Even her phone was left at home.

“So, what do you think?” Rose asks, standing in front of Ciri, who is sitting on a raise with the heels of her shoes hooked on the edge. Rose changed in the meantime into a new pair of light jeans, pink t-shirt, a short jacket and fingerless gloves.

“It’s huge. The architecture is weird,” Ciri admits. “How many people live here?”

“In London? Seven million or something?”

“Wow. In the whole of Temeria live about twenty million people. In the capital city, Vizima, where I’m from, maybe fifty thousand? Your world is far more populated than mine.”

Rose nods, then takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for not making doe eyes at him,” she blurts out.

Ciri laughs.

“Nah, I wouldn’t dare,” she says. Seeing the soft smile on Rose’s face, she adds: “He’s fascinating though, I admit. And not at all painful to look at.”

Rose nods again and looks down, biting on her lower lip, her hands in her jacket pockets.

“This life is dangerous, I’d imagine, yet you go with him,” Ciri says, hugging her knees. “It can’t be all about his looks.”

Rose glances at her again.

“As you said, he’s fascinating. And it’s a matter of self-worth, too, I think,” she reveals. “I had issues and a boring life of a shop-girl with no higher education. Then he came, blew up my workplace, saved my life, I saved his, then I was invited to go with him and then…”

Ciri laughs at this.

“And it’s the adventure. No life like this one,” Rose finishes.

Ciri nods.

“Yeah, I know. The difference between us is, you can always get back home, I almost lost mine. I need the solid Temerian ground under my feet, after last month.”

Rose looks at her, her eyes serious, almost scrutinizing.

“Let’s go to a mall,” she says after a short pause. “Mum says she doesn’t have food for supper, and you can get some Earthly souvenirs while we’re there, if you want.”

“I don’t have any money,” Ciri protests weakly.

“No matter, come on,” Rose says and reaches out with her hand for Ciri to grab. “I need to uncurse shopping excursions for myself. Last time I went, I was attacked by Santas.”

“By what?” Ciri laughs and takes her hand to jump down to Rose’s level. Ciri is slightly taller, which she notices only now.

Rose hesitates.

“Will tell you on the way,” she says. “And buy you some hot chocolate, girl, you’re freezing!” she adds, rubbing Ciri’s hands, red from the cold.

Ciri laughs again, excited by the idea of bonding further with this oh-so-normal, space travelling girl.

They meet the Doctor on the way downstairs.

“I’ll stay here, there’s a less chance you’ll get into trouble,” he says with a smile, keeping his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Am I to leave you in the same room with my mother?” Rose admonishes.

“Sometimes we have to face our biggest fears,” the Doctor retorts.

Ciri snorts.

“By the way, what range is the TARDIS’ translating… feature?” she asks. The Doctor raises his left eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes at him. “I know the TARDIS translates whatever we’re saying, I know telepathy when I’m subjected to it. I’m pretty sure you don’t speak Common and I don’t use… whatever language you speak you most likely hear me using now.”

“English,” the Doctor replies. “Don’t worry about the range; and I’m sorry if you feel violated in any way by this. You can block her if you want.”

Rose glances at the Doctor curiously.

“She knows telepathy,” the Doctor whispers to her, as if it explains everything.

Ciri waves her hand.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ve already let her inside my head. I’m fine as long as translating is the only thing she does; and I’m sure blocking her without proper reason would insult her.”

“She’d understand. Anyway, off you go!” the Doctor shoos at them.

So Rose and Ciri go to the mall. They exchange stories on the way: Rose talks about her history with the Doctor and about her world. Ciri returns the favour, at Rose’s request concentrating mostly on magic, but that also brings the topic of monsters and her dad’s occupation. They talk openly, not caring whether someone would be bewildered by what they can overhear.

They have their hot chocolate, buy food for supper, Ciri also gets a set of clothes and an album with photos of various landmarks on Earth, and the second one, about London. She’s determined to read the text under the photos as soon as possible, as she’s sure that once the TARDIS leaves her vicinity, the English language will stop making sense. For now everything is in Common, translated for her in her mind.

The simple excursion is immense fun for her. Rose is funny, friendly and blunt, her step just as bouncy as the Doctor’s; they walk hooked together at the elbows like a pair of old friends, sharing the load of shopping bags, admiring the fancy dresses in shop windows and exchanging gossip - although they both admit it may be outdated. It doesn't matter. They bond.

Ciri should be terrified, left at mercy of these absolutely foreign people, yet the alien Doctor, this Earth girl and their blue box make her feel safe. She allows them to keep her from her dad for one more day, just because she’s not sure what she’ll find back home and she desperately needs some respite from the crazy month she’s spent Jumping from world to world, some more hostile than others.

They decide to get back to Jackie’s flat two hours later, still sharing stories, comparing their worlds while carefully avoiding more private topics. Rose jokes about being worried whether the Doctor is still alive, but when they arrive at Jackie’s, they both are surprised by the quiet conversation taking place in the living room.

“Bit more tactile, this one,” they hear Jackie’s voice and the Doctor’s grunt in reply. “The previous one wore that leather jacket like an armour, and you hugged me two minutes after I first saw you standing and coherent.”

“I’m still the same,” the Doctor starts, but Jackie interrupts him:

“But you’re so different! Not that I complain. You spent Christmas with us, which is something I wouldn’t imagine happening with the previous one, and I’m glad you no longer look like you could be her father.”

Rose and Ciri stand in the hallway; Rose listens to the conversation, Ciri watches her face, now full of emotions she can’t really describe. There’s a lot of history, things she doesn’t fully understand about these people, although Rose told her about the recent regeneration of the Doctor.

“Well,” the Doctor says. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you took care of me when I was still regenerating. I wonder who exactly changed me into the jimjams I found myself in, though.” There’s a note of amusement in his soft voice. “You two can stop eavesdropping!” he calls suddenly. Rose blushes, Ciri only sniggers.

“We didn’t want to interrupt your bonding,” Rose retorts and goes to the kitchen to put away the groceries and gets two scoffs in reply.

“I see you got something for yourself, too!” Jackie says, pointing at the bag in Ciri’s hands.

“Yes, thank you. I’d love to repay you, but…” Ciri stammers a little.

“No worries, love, my treat,” Jackie waves her hand. “I know you’re not exactly from around here, ‘we bumped on her during our travels’ tells me as much. I’m glad they don’t bring in every alien they meet, but you seem to be one of the nicer sorts.”

Ciri can feel her face heat up and gives Jackie a relieved little laugh.

“If that’s any consolation, I’m biologically human, like you,” she says.

“Only one heart?”

“Yep, on the left side of my body, too.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jackie concludes and goes to the kitchen.

Ciri decides to omit the little detail of her carrying a very small fraction of elven DNA. It doesn’t matter, really: you’d have to look very hard to find its influence on her, if you didn’t know about her abilities that come with it.

Which is probably the reason the Doctor, still sitting on the couch, is looking at her curiously now. Ciri shrugs. She’s probably the most human alien this planet has ever seen.

Jackie makes shepherd’s pie for supper, they share stories over it, it’s blissfully domestic and no longer so tiring now, when she had time to process recent events. Ciri can say there used to be some tension between Jackie and the Doctor, but now they’re perfectly friendly, sitting at the table, eating, drinking and laughing. It feels like family.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll get her own family back, just as weird as this one, just as caring.

She shakes herself before her longing can show on her face, and returns to watching the people at the table.

The Doctor is charming, she has to admit. He’s obviously smitten with Rose and the feeling is reciprocated. She can’t blame Rose, considering the stories she’s heard so far. The man is brave, bold, devilishly smart and handsome, with his warm eyes, unruly hair and honest-to-gods freckles on his cheeks. Ciri can tell their dynamic changed not long ago - maybe with the regeneration - and they’re still getting used to the situation. They’re open to try, though. Why wouldn’t they, given what they all went through and the fact they welcomed a girl from another planet to their home. Or homes. Or a home and a spaceship.

It’s late into the night when she realises she’s tired again. She stifles a yawn, but Jackie and the Doctor notice it instantly.

“Oh, dear, let’s put you to bed!” Jackie stands up and starts looking for something, probably spare bedclothes, before the Doctor stops her.

“No, I think Rose should stay here, give you two a chance to spend some time together. Ciri and I will go to sleep in the TARDIS. In separate bedrooms, mind you,” he says and shoots a somewhat worried glance at Rose.

“Space travellers sleepover?” Ciri blurts out, but doesn’t protest.

Rose looks at him, then at Ciri, ponders for a second, then nods.

“Come back for breakfast at nine,” she says, but there’s some uncertainty on her face. There’s a lot of trust in the statement anyway, like she knows - or tries to convince herself - that Ciri’s not a threat to her relationship with the Doctor.

Ciri smiles at her. Rose smiles back.

“Will do,” the Doctor agrees. Ciri takes her things and after a short goodbye goes with him downstairs.

When they enter the TARDIS, the ship welcomes them with a soft hum. The Doctor goes straight to the console.

“You’ll find a spare bedroom down that corridor, and some clothes to wear for the night. There’s an en-suite, so take your time,” he says. The TARDIS helpfully lights up the corridor and the first door on the left. Behind the door, Ciri finds a cozy bedroom with an armchair that looks delightfully comfortable, a queen-sized bed and another door leading to the bathroom.

Ciri puts the bag with her purchases on the armchair and looks around the room. It’s warm and prepared for her, the bedclothes are fresh and fluffy, there are some toiletries in the bathroom, the air smells of lavender. She didn’t have time to take a shower before they landed in London, so she really takes her time under the warm spray of water. She bathed during her travels across worlds, but this feels different. It’s heavenly.

She brushes her teeth and changes into the loose grey pajama pants, warm socks and green t-shirt she found by the sink. Something tells her to put her dirty clothes into the laundry basket standing in the corner of the bathroom. She’s sure she’ll get them back tomorrow, clean and dry.

She’s still tired, but she doesn’t feel like going to sleep at the moment, so she puts on the slippers she found under the bed and goes looking for the Doctor. She finds him under the console, deep into tinkering. She gets a telepathic feeling of exasperation from the TARDIS and suddenly feels mildly irritated by it; the emphatic sensation isn’t what she needs right now. She loves the TARDIS, but with her day it’s too much.

Ciri huffs and rolls her eyes.

The Doctor glances at her and murmurs something in a language she has no hope of understanding.

The telepathic feeling suddenly stops.

“What have you done?” Ciri asks and frowns.

“The TARDIS isn’t used to people who can detect telepathy, other than myself, of course,” the Doctor says. “It’s an element of magic in your world, isn’t it? That’s how you communicate with her so easily. I know it can be tiring, having even that little bit of someone else’s presence all the time inside your head,” he replies, still tinkering. Something changed in his voice, he speaks a little bit slower, but he’s still as verbose as he used to be.

“You told her to leave my mind? Won’t she get angry?” she asks, worried, as she sits down on the grating, by his legs sticking from under the console.

“Nah, she understands. She hears you, you know, she knows you don’t want to insult her. I was the one who told her to take a break on you, so it’s me who risks a few slightly burnt fingers.”

A spark flies from the console. The Doctor hisses. Ciri smirks.

“So she’s not translating at the moment, is she? You actually speak Common,” she realises.

“I speak five billion languages. Common is actually much easier than English.”

“Is it popular on this planet? English?” she asks, because it’s easier to talk about that than her magic - the topic that will surely make an appearance tonight.

“Pretty much,” he replies, fumbling with some cables. “Lots of accents, but a lot of people follow the principles, so you can communicate with it in most of the popular tourist places outside the countries where it’s a native language. Mind you, there are thousands of languages on this planet, most of them more obscure than the rest, but…”

“You talk a lot, no matter the language,” she interrupts him with a giggle.

“And there are four or five popular dialects in your world, at least the part of it showing on the maps most often,” he continues, unperturbed, still not looking at her. “There’s Common and Elder Speech, and the rest of them is a variation of one or the other. Kind of boring, don’t you think?”

“Knowing the two you can travel all the way across the Continent and talk to everyone,” she defends.

“But here’s the thing.” The Doctor crawls from under the console, stands up and then helps Ciri to her feet. “On Earth, people who know English as their first language have little motivation to learn another. Some do of course, and there are people who learn English as a foreign language but pretend they don’t know it, just because of some cultural issues…”

“Why are we talking about this?” Ciri asks suddenly, a frown on her face. As glad as she was for the respite, this is not a topic she imagined talking about with an alien time and space traveller.

“I have no idea,” the Doctor replies with a cheerful smile. “Actually, I wanted to talk about your magic,” he adds, wiggling his fingers.

There it is.

“It’s not like a card trick.” Ciri rolls her eyes.

“I know,” he replies, lowering his hands. “Your power is probably different to what other people of magic can do in your world. You’re unique, aren’t you?”

Ciri shrugs. She should be worried about his questions, but there’s only curiosity in his voice, fluently speaking her home language with an accent she can’t recognise.

“Others can alter minds, move things, create balls of fire, make flowers bloom... I destroy everything when I try that,” Ciri admits.

“But you can jump between worlds.”

She nods.

“What else can you do?” he asks. He’s standing very close to her, almost nose to nose. He’s staring into her eyes and she can see her reflection in his dark irises.

“I can see the future,” she admits. She swallows with some difficulty. “Sometimes, I fall into this trance of sorts. I don’t see much, just glimpses of what’s to come. And it’s different to what you can see, you travel into the future and see the big picture. I can predict my loved ones dying. It’s called being a Source.”

“That’s one hell of a gift,” he murmurs and puts his hands on her shoulders.

Ciri snorts.

“That’s what they call it. A Gift. But it’s a curse for me,” she spits. “There were people pretending to be concerned, wanting to train me, teach me how to control it. Geralt wouldn’t let them, he knew they weren’t concerned about me, about the risk of me going crazy if I don’t learn; they wanted to use the power for themselves. I should be registered as a magic user, but I’m not, for precisely that reason.”

“But someone did train you.” The Doctor stands an arms-length away from her now, his hands still on her shoulders, but it’s only to steady her.

“Geralt’s ex-wife and his working partner are sorceresses. They trained me a little.”

Yennefer and Triss helped her become aware of her power, taught her how to harness it. She doesn’t have full control over it, but at least she managed to silence the voices that are the power’s temptations to be let loose, so there’s a very small risk of her being diagnosed with magic-related schizophrenia.

Until now, it was enough. Her Jump to an uninhabitable planet proves she’ll need more control in the future.

“I think the TARDIS can do something for you, too, if you allow her,” the Doctor admits softly, as if he’s reading her mind now, although she’s sure he doesn’t. “She probably knows more about time and dimension travel than anyone else in the whole universe.”

“I don’t know,” Ciri sighs. “I mean, she sure can help me, but I’m really done concentrating on my magic, what I can and can’t do, people going inside my head, taking out and putting in things. Why can’t I just be a frickin’ normal girl from Vizima, Temeria?” She almost shouts the last question, her shoulders tense, her hands balled into fists.

The Doctor lets go of her.

“You can be for tonight,” he says softly. His fingers are twitching by his sides. “The TARDIS will leave you alone, will let you get some sleep. You’re safe. But think about it, alright? I know it’s frustrating, but pretending your problem doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.”

So very adult of him to say that last part. She hates him a little for sounding so much like Yennefer.

“At least I can believe there’s no ulterior motive behind that suggestion,” Ciri concedes with a heavy sigh.

“Oh yes. Totally helping out a fellow traveller,” he replies with a relieved smile. “I mean, I can already jump times and realities, I don’t need your curse for that.”

Ciri smiles at this. He’s so earnest, so full of energy. It’s fresh and funny and safe. There’s some darkness in his eyes, painful memories, things he’s still getting used to, but he faces the world wanting to help.

“I’ll think about it,” she promises. “Good night.”

“Bye. See you tomorrow.” He smiles at her again.

She goes to her bedroom and flops down on the bed, kicking off the slippers. She melts into the mattress and it’s only a matter of minutes before she’s asleep.

* * *

For the first time in a month, she feels completely rested when she opens her eyes. She’s staring at the ceiling of the room and the first thing she notices is total silence.

The TARDIS was always full of that living hum, like the sound of engines with a little bit of a singing voice. It was soothing, in a way. Now Ciri kind of misses it.

“Hello, TARDIS,” she says, still staring at the ceiling.

The soft hum returns, quiet at first, then louder. She feels a soft pinprick of someone wanting access to her mind. Ciri closes her eyes, allows it in and gets a feeling of gratitude and relief in response.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who told you to back off,” she says with a smile. “Hopefully the Doctor still has his fingers?”

There’s a note of amusement in the hum.

Ciri hesitates for a second, then takes a deep breath and says:

“The Doctor mentioned you can teach me about my power.”

The hum sounds definitely like a confirmation, or it may be just a telepathic response.

“Do we need the Doctor for that?” Ciri asks, suddenly wondering why she says it out loud. If she focused, she could probably have this conversation in her mind only.

She gets a negative response.

“How would it look? I’d just lay down, close my eyes, open my mind and let you plant the knowledge?”

She gets a mental image of eyes rolling. It’s probably as complex a response as the TARDIS is capable of under the circumstances.

Ciri can guess that it’s far more complicated than that.

“If we don’t get the Doctor’s help, how big is the risk of my brain being fried in the process?”

Now there’s a pause.

It’s Ciri’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh, great,” she smirks. “No letting you in there on your own, then, you just stick to translating.”

Her bed lurches. It’s surprising, not enough to throw her off, but enough to make her flinch.

“That was nasty, my lady,” Ciri declares and decides she doesn’t need to return to a jumping bed. She changes into the clothes she bought yesterday with Jackie’s money and goes to the console room.

The Doctor is lying under the panel by the console again, some parts strewn around him. There’s a pen-like, chirping device in his hand, he uses it for gods only know what.

He’s still wearing his brown pinstripe suit, but she notices he changed his shirt and socks. The white plimsolls are as dirty as they were yesterday.

“Hello!” he calls out cheerfully and continues tinkering.

“Did you sleep at all?” Ciri asks and sits cross-legged on the floor by his feet.

“Two or three hours, I don’t need that much sleep,” he admits. “We have maybe half an hour before breakfast.” His accent suggests he’s still speaking Common.

“I’ve been thinking about your… proposal, about the TARDIS teaching me about time and space travel,” Ciri admits. The Doctor looks at her then, the cylindrical device held in his teeth, his hands deep into the machinery. “I’d like to try,” she adds.

The Doctor spits out the device and gives her a huge grin.

“Great!” he exclaims and climbs from under the console. “How about we go eat something, fly out and then see what we can do for you.”

She smiles at him and lets him put her to her feet.

* * *

They’re joined for breakfast by Mickey, Rose’s probably-ex-but-still-friendly boyfriend. He talks about something suspicious happening at Deffry Vale school, following an UFO sighting. The Doctor and Rose look properly intrigued, but when Ciri starts to have doubts they remember her and the promise of not dragging her into trouble, and the Doctor firmly declares they’ll take her home first.

That draws Mickey’s attention to her. She’s bombarded by questions and wary looks. ‘Can she do this, can she do that, if she can jump between worlds, why is she here, why won’t she return on her own?’

“I can harness only a limited amount of energy to turn into my power,” Ciri snaps finally. “I got lost and ran out. If I didn’t, I could blink out of sight, blink back behind you, kick you in the ass and then blink back here and continue eating like nothing has happened.”

She feels a pang of worry that her snap will take her out of Jackie’s good graces, but the three other people only exchange amused glances; Rose snorts and stops Mickey from prying any further. The man stays quiet for the rest of the breakfast, just glances at her from time to time, probably thinking she doesn’t notice as she’s more focused on Jackie and her much kinder questions about her family, her world and her plans for the future, not mentioning the magic.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Ciri says when they finish breakfast and the cleanup afterwards. She even helped, washing the dishes. “Last month was crazy for me, I really needed that.”

“You’re welcome, love. At least you’re on your way home now,” Jackie reminds her.

“I hope so. I have no idea what I’ll find there,” she admits and suddenly there are tears in her eyes.

Given the hell Vizima was when she left and the wild promise in Geralt’s voice during their phone call, she might as well find out he died taking his revenge.

“Your dad is fine, I’m sure of it,” Jackie says and pulls Ciri into a hug. Ciri is startled at first, but then she returns it. “That’s the most important thing. I don’t have any idea what he’s like, but judging by what you’ve grown up into, together you can make it alright.”

“Thank you!” Ciri sobs and receives a pat on the back.

“Good luck anyway,” Jackie finishes and lets go of her.

Mickey looks unsure of what to do, so he just waves at the Doctor and Rose with a soft “See you later”.

Jackie walks them to the TARDIS, still parked outside.

“We’ll be back in a moment!” Rose calls to her, waiting for Ciri and the Doctor to enter the box.

“If you ask the TARDIS very nicely…” Ciri murmurs, gives Jackie the last hand wave and a soft smile and gets inside.

The Doctor only snickers at Ciri.

Rose closes the door behind her. They all go to the console. The Doctor starts to run around it, pushing buttons, pulling handles, directing the girls to hold onto this knob or that.

“So, we’re going straight to Ciri’s world?” Rose asks as the TARDIS starts to shake.

“No, we’ll only go to the Vortex for now,” the Doctor admits. “We think the TARDIS can teach Ciri a little bit more about time and space travel. Then we’ll go to Ciri’s world.”

“I loved it here, thank you for convincing me to go to your mum,” Ciri says in earnest. “I’d really love to promise to return the favour, but I have no idea what the situation is back home,” she adds.

“No worries, we’ll see when we get there. Although I’d like to see a world where there’s magic,” Rose replies with a smile.

“It’s the only main difference, though,” Ciri says, holding onto another button at the Doctor’s gesture. “We have cars, roads, blocks of flats, mobile phones and all that, it all looks familiar. But we also have elves, dwarves, halflings and other human-like individuals, living with humans.”

“And magic,” Rose adds with a smile.

“Yeah, that too,” Ciri returns the smile.

The TARDIS gives the last lurch and they stop.

“So, we’re in the Time Vortex. Come on,” the Doctor directs them to the lounge area.

Ciri sits in her favourite position, cross-legged on the sofa, turned to the side, her hands between her folded knees; the Doctor sits next to her, one leg under him, the other planted on the floor, so he can be at arms-length from her. Rose stays at the back, her posture suddenly tense, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches them. What will happen here will probably be intimate and Rose most likely knows it.

“Alright,” the Doctor starts, his fingers already spread on both sides of Ciri’s head, but not touching yet. “Let’s see what we need. I’ll play a middleman between you and the TARDIS, so she won’t…”

“Fry my brain accidentally?” Ciri finishes with a smile. She gets a raised left eyebrow in response, but judging by the fact the Doctor doesn’t correct her, she may be not too far from the truth. She nods, glancing at his hands, so he puts them on her temples.

She closes her eyes and tries not to think about anything, since she isn’t sure what he’s looking for. She can feel his presence in her mind, but she can’t see where exactly he is.

It lasts maybe a minute. The Doctor suddenly gasps and lets go of her, giving her vertigo for five seconds, as his presence is practically ripped out of her mind. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring at her, eyes wide, mouth open.

“What?” she and Rose ask at the same time.

“Sorry, Ciri, we can’t help you. Only someone from your own world can,” the Doctor says with a strained voice. There’s a slight change in the TARDIS’ hum.

Ciri frowns.

“Well, too bad,” she says and shrugs, but the Doctor doesn’t stop staring. “What is it? What did you see?”

“You’re not just someone with a Gift,” he says with the same difficulty. She realises he has trouble believing what he saw in her mind. “Or a Source. You’re the Lady of Time and Space. You are unique, the only one in the whole Universe.”

Ciri starts to shake her head in denial, but the Doctor doesn’t let her protest:

“My race, the Time Lords, was very rational. We hardly had any legends we didn’t even believe in, really, they were just bedtime stories. You were one of them.”

Even the TARDIS stops humming. The air grows dense under the revelation.

“You are one of the most powerful creatures in the Universe,” the Doctor adds.

Ciri is just staring at him, but she doesn’t feel the need to argue with him: there’s truth in his words and his astonishment.

She starts to wonder what it means for her, being a legend for a race called Time Lords.

The tension becomes dangerous. She wants to break it. She doesn’t know whether she’s considered a threat or something else, she’s just uneasy and has nowhere to go. She tried to detect a place of Power when they were in London, but the energy felt weird, it wasn’t hers. It wasn’t something she could draw from, so she’s still at the Doctor’s mercy.

"The Lady of Time and Space, and a Time Lord. Sounds like you could rule the universe," Rose says, and there’s a kind of bite in her voice. Ciri can imagine she regrets leaving them alone for the night. She probably doesn’t suspect anything too serious has happened, but she knows that something has changed in their dynamic; and Rose’s own relationship with this recently regenerated Doctor is vulnerable already, so bringing the factor of Ciri’s powers into that setting must be unnerving.

The Doctor is still gaping at Ciri.

“Judging by his face…” Ciri starts, trying to break the tension, and it works: the Doctor visibly shakes himself.

“Sorry,” he says and rubs his hands on his trousers. “To be honest, if my people… in the old times, I would have to bring you to my planet or I’d face court martial,” he admits.

“So I was right about you two ruling the universe together?” Rose asks cheerfully, but her tone seems fake.

Ciri can think of another option: she would be killed. She decides not to voice it.

All she knows is she doesn’t like the waves of uncertainty and borderline hostility that emanate from Rose. She wants her temporary friend back. Last thing she needs is being considered a threat, for whatever reason.

She latches onto Rose’s version of possible events and decides to end this conversation.

"Nah, I'm a seventeen year-old lesbian who had trouble at school with chemistry last year and got lost in space,” she says with a smirk, looking into the Doctor’s still shocked, dark eyes. “He travels across the universe not to rule it, but to save it, piece by little piece, and he's definitely taken. I'll pass."

Rose snorts and the hostility ends. The Doctor gives Ciri a small smile, which she returns. She knows that her secret is safe with them, as the Doctor was using past tenses when talking about his planet. Maybe that explains his question from yesterday, about her having a world or not.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, stands up and goes to the console room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the TARDIS interior (especially the existence of the lounge), so please be delicate with me, as I'm only in the middle of s2 of modern "Doctor Who".  
> Also, comments feed the writer!


	2. Chapter 2

The door opens to a grove facing a clearing on the high shores of a river. Behind the trees is a road, not too busy, only some bicycle bells ringing and happy calls of people passing each other. The air, hot in the summer sun, smells of wine and herbs.

“This is definitely not Vizima,” Ciri says when she leaves the TARDIS, the bag with her clothes and her Earthly souvenirs in hand.

“Is it even your planet?” Rose asks.

“Not sure,” Ciri admits and looks around.

“The TARDIS is known for mixing up times, but hardly planets,” the Doctor says, closing the door behind them.

The countryside is beautiful, that he’s sure of. The air is fresh and pleasant, the sun is high in the sky. The vegetation is a vibrant green, even the sky is bluer than on Earth.

A high mountain looms on the western horizon, overlooking a city. There are lines of grapevines all over the place, soaking in the sun. Bees are buzzing, birds are singing; this place is enchanting and peaceful.

“But I’ve never been here before, I have no idea… Toussaint!” Ciri exclaims suddenly, spinning. “This is Toussaint, a Duchy in the south, known for its wines and the love for tradition. See, that over there,” she points at the city of tall, slim towers and red roofs of townhouses built on the slopes of a hill, with a palace straight from a fairy tale built on top, “it’s Beauclair, the capital. The mountain behind it is called Gorgon. And that,” she points to two rocks in a gate-like formation on the southeastern horizon, “is the Delenfer’s Pass. I’ve learnt about it in geography.”

“So it is your world,” Rose says, looking around in awe.

“Yes. I still have no idea why the TARDIS would bring us here. My home city is thousands of kilometres away to the northwest,” Ciri says, leading them towards the road.

“We could ask there,” Rose says, pointing at a building on the other end of a nearby bridge. It looks like a busy inn, people coming out and going in, with smoke coming from the chimney.

“Ask for what?” the Doctor inquires.

“I don’t know. Ciri’s dad? Maybe they know something. I don’t think the TARDIS would bring us here by accident.”

The Doctor nods at that. It’s their unspoken rule: they rarely turn around back to the TARDIS when they find out the error in navigation. It was their way of getting into trouble, or rather, finding adventure. They run only when faced with an openly hostile environment, and this land definitely isn’t hostile.

The Doctor is tempted to change his mind on that when they notice a patch of burnt ground by the far edge of the grove. It looks like a small bomb crater with withered plant pieces strewn around.

“Monsters nest,” Ciri whispers. “Archespore, most likely.”

Rose inhales sharply.

“Blown up not long ago,” Ciri adds quickly. “No monsters here anymore, but it only proves that this is my planet and some witcher does his noisy business in the area. Roads are usually safe.”

They reach the cobblestoned road and go in the direction of the bridge, still looking around. As they pass a stone arch of a gate, Ciri hesitates.

“There’s a house,” she points in the direction of the gate, opposite to the inn. “I think we should go there.”

Rose looks like she wants to protest, but she stops herself, seeing the Doctor shaking his head. The Doctor knows that sense of direction is a part of Ciri’s Gift. She has sharper instincts than most humans.

They go after Ciri.

As they are about to cross the road, they hear a horn and turn to see something that can only be described as a classic car passing them, the curved lines of black and grey body glinting in the sun. Men walking on the pavement are dressed in loose suits, with jackets over jumpers or open collared shirts with no tie. The women prefer half-calf-length, colourful dresses with simple lines, but hugging the silhouette. Here and there they can see a blazer, women wearing trousers also aren’t a rare sight. It’s all very stylish, but not formal, there are no gloves, canes that would serve only a decorational purpose, no parasols, as people - both men and women - prefer hats with narrow brims.

“It’s like the thirties,” the Doctor murmurs as they cross the road and head towards the stone arch leading to the vineyard house. “Nineteen-thirties on Earth. The fashion, the cars…”

“I feel out of place,” Rose comments, glancing at her jeans and pink t-shirt. “Do you know how devoted people here are to fashion?” she asks Ciri.

“Don’t worry, as far as I know, being out of place fashion-wise isn’t a crime here,” Ciri says, though she sounds unsure. Judging by the friendly reaction - or a complete lack thereof - from the people around them, they’ve got nothing to worry about at the moment.

“Good to know, it’s not so obvious in some places,” the Doctor admits. Of the three of them, he fits here the most, except for the plimsolls. He’s glad he left his coat in the TARDIS, as even he is starting to feel hot under the sun.

Ciri glances at him with a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t elaborate.

They walk among grapevines, greeted by the workers. Some groups of people sing while they pick ripe grapes, others smoke pipes, children running past call to them cheerfully. It’s all very happy and laid back.

Ciri asks one of the children what the estate’s called, she gets Corvo Bianco in response.

They enter a courtyard with the villa on the far side from where they came from, slightly higher than the rest of the buildings. There’s an entrance to something that looks like a wine cellar built under the house, and smaller houses - most likely the workers’ lodgings - around the cobblestoned area. An old woman is sweeping dirt by the villa’s door, someone is sawing a board in the shade of the workshop next to where they’re standing. A shed by the workshop is obviously an adapted garage, with a very modern, slightly beaten blue motorbike and a classic small convertible car parked inside.

They notice the facade of the villa needs some repainting, though; here and there the plaster is falling off, a tile is missing from a roof, a beam is crooked and needs support. The estate is happy and working, but with a little bit of a struggle.

“I know this bike,” Ciri gasps, looking inside the garage.

They see the villa door open and an older man with black hair, wearing a long, dark waistcoat over a patterned shirt runs out and down the stairs to the main courtyard.

“Cirilla!” he calls.

“Regis!”

She runs to the man and lets him engulf her in a strong hug.

“By the gods, I’m so glad you’re finally here!” the man says as he lifts her from the ground and spins around, with Ciri laughing. It doesn’t last long before he puts her back on her feet.

“How late are we?” she asks, still keeping her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“Six months,” Regis says sombrely.

“Oh dear,” the Doctor murmurs in Common, pulling Regis’ attention to him. “I’m really sorry,” he adds.

He can see Rose noticed the slight change in his accent by the curious look she shoots him, but doesn’t comment.

Regis gives him a soft, reassuring smile.

“You must be the Doctor Geralt has told me about,” Regis says and nods in greeting. He’s keeping his hand on Ciri’s back. The girl is practically leaning on him. “As for being late, it’s probably for the best. If you showed up when you were supposed to… well. It wasn’t so good then. It’s still not perfect, as we’re practically hiding here, but it’s much safer.”

“It’s good to know, last time I was late I was slapped by Rose’s mother,” the Doctor admits. “With Geralt I would imagine it would be a fist to the face, and I don’t look forward to that, because I like this face.”

Rose snickers.

“Well, at least Geralt knew Ciri was with us,” she says.

“And that knowledge was probably the only thing keeping him sane, to be honest,” Regis admits sadly after a few seconds’ pause, like he needed time to understand what she said. “He didn’t want to leave Temeria, but he didn’t have a choice. He hoped you would find him anyway.”

“Well, we’re here now. Where’s Geralt?” Ciri asks, bouncing on her feet with her hands in her back jeans pockets.

“Went on a hunt to a vineyard nearby: he has a lot of work here as a witcher, it keeps him busy. Shouldn’t be long, though. I believe proper introductions are in order?” Regis says with a raised eyebrow.

Ciri does the honours: Emiel Regis is apparently Geralt’s partner. There’s something oddly non-human about the man; the Doctor can’t judge his age and his shadow is weirdly distorted in the sharp midday sun, but as a non-human himself he can’t really complain.

He knows that the man emanates higher intelligence and knowledge in a way that suggests he’s very old and he’s seen a lot. If he’s non-human, the Doctor can guess his species considers themselves superior to humans, and it’s a feeling the Doctor is far too familiar with.

Regis is friendly, though, providing small talk; Ciri also seems very close to him, with her hand hooked in his elbow as he talks about the estate and leads them inside the house.

The air inside the villa is cooler than on the outside, thanks to the small windows and thick walls. Here it’s even more obvious the building needs a solid workover: the furnishings are basic, the walls are bare, but Regis shows them to the fully equipped kitchen, the bathroom, both with running cold and hot water, and to three bedrooms; the main hall serves as the dining room. The house is livable and the Doctor can see Ciri has already fallen in love with it.

“Geralt got the estate from the Duchess only three weeks ago, and we’ve been working hard since then to earn enough money to restore it,” Regis says, preparing tea in the kitchen. Despite the country’s fondness for classic clothes and cars, the appliances here - the fridge and the stove - are modern, in the Earth sense. “It’s been a godsend, really, as after the events in Vizima he was left with barely anything.”

“I’m afraid I missed most of it,” Ciri admits, leaning on the doorframe and watching him.

“Well, let’s wait for Geralt to tell the whole story,” Regis says, pouring the hot water over the tea leaves. He doesn’t react to Ciri taking milk from the fridge and showing it to Rose, who nods.

The Doctor stifles a smile. Ciri surely learns quickly about the local customs; milk in tea isn’t popular outside the UK.

It doesn’t take long before Geralt returns. They are sitting at the table in the dining room, drinking tea or a fresh juice, and talking, when the door opens and Geralt walks in. At the sight of them, he drops the long bag he held in his hand and goes straight to Ciri. Ciri leaps up from her seat and they hug, not minding the fact that Geralt’s leather armour is covered in dirt and blood. Ciri sobs, her face hidden against his shoulder, and Geralt’s eyes are clenched shut; he breathes heavily through his nose, obviously trying to stay calm.

Geralt lets go of her, puts his hands on both sides of Ciri’s head, looks straight into her eyes for a few seconds and then hugs her again.

Up close, he does look older than what the Doctor remembered from their previous meeting. His hair is much shorter, barely reaching his ears; there are more wrinkles around his eyes, more scars on his face and even the southern sun couldn’t get rid of the somewhat sickly pallor of his skin.

But other than that, he sees how much Geralt and Ciri love each other.

Ciri missed him for a month and he’s a source of comfort. Home is where he is.

Geralt… Geralt looks like this hug is glueing him back together. He may be in a relationship with Regis, who is now standing up, his dark eyes wet with tears, but it’s Ciri who’s the most important.

Geralt opens his eyes, looks at them, reaches out with one of his hands towards the Doctor, who stands up from the table, shakes it and smiles softly.

“Thank you,” Geralt whispers and the Doctor nods, moved by the scene before him.

“You’re welcome.”

“What would you say to some sightseeing, Doctor, Miss Rose?” Regis suggests softly. “There’s a fair just beyond the hill, we can even go to Beauclair if you have time.”

“That would be lovely,” Rose replies with a smile. Regis returns it and leads the two of them out of the house. They understand Geralt and Ciri need some time alone.

They walk around the hill overlooking the estate and soon they have the perfect view of Beauclair and the fair-grounds. Rose gasps at the beautiful sights. Regis spends the time to tell them some of Toussaint’s history and local customs. Rose asks a lot of questions, excited about their little excursion, and pretty soon the Doctor notices that Regis has some issues with the language. He communicates with the Doctor with no problems, as the Doctor is still speaking Common, with a Koviri accent, as he’s been informed by Regis, but when it’s Rose talking, it takes some time.

“You have trouble understanding Rose, don’t you?” the Doctor asks Regis as they near the fair-grounds. “Rose doesn’t speak Common, and our ship, the TARDIS, usually extends her translating feature to anyone we talk to, yet she has obvious problems reaching you.”

“Miss Rose understands me with no trouble,” Regis notices.

“Yes, but for you it takes time. Do you have any idea why?”

“Well, considering my species is resistant to various kinds of what we call magic here, including telepathy, which, as I understand, is the basis of your TARDIS’ translating feature…”

“Your species?” Rose blurts out and gets a soft smile from Regis in reply.

“I’m what’s called a higher vampire, dear,” he admits once he processes what the TARDIS is able to do for him.

Rose stops on the spot, mouth agape. The Doctor limits himself to raising his eyebrow at Regis, although keeping in a stronger reaction is hard.

The fact that the TARDIS is able to translate for Regis at all only shows how powerful she is. The Doctor has heard about higher vampires: they are very old, very wise, practically immortal and potentially very, very dangerous.

“Living with a professional monster hunter and his precious, adopted daughter, and being absolutely unaffected by sunlight,” Regis adds with a wry smile of pursed lips. Rose closes her mouth with a click of her teeth. “The legends about my species are very universal, as far as I’m aware, but you have nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t drink blood?” the Doctor asks, keeping his tone light. Regis is perfectly friendly and all the Doctor wants to communicate is proper curiosity without a sign of wariness.

“I don’t need it for survival,” Regis replies with emphasis. “It’s like alcohol for my species, and I abstain. Believe me, I wouldn’t be with Geralt if he considered me dangerous in any way to Ciri.”

“I believe you, I’m sorry,” Rose says slowly, pouring emotions into her tone, so Regis can understand her even if it takes time for him to hear the words. And the man - the vampire - nods gracefully with a soft smile, no offence taken.

The Doctor takes the opportunity to ask Regis about his species. The vampire, recognising a fellow academic and a non-human, is very generous with the information; the Doctor returns the favour, although Regis’ questions become very general when he hears that the Time Lords’ planet doesn’t exist anymore. That part of the conversation also ends pretty quickly, so the Doctor doesn’t have to dwell on the subject of his lost kin.

It doesn’t take long before they reach the fair, the area of some old ruins with countless stalls with food, wine, clothes, toys and all assortments of other goods standing along the paths. Rose’s eyes widen and soon she runs off, taking in all the sights.

“Don’t buy any clothes!” the Doctor calls after her. “We’ve got plenty!”

Here they have an even more condensed cut-view on the local fashion across the social classes than what they’ve seen before: all straight lines, wide trouser-legs with creases and cuffs, suits with shoulder pads, sweaters, loose, practical, knee-length dresses or figure-hugging, long and lush gowns, flared by the ankles. It’s very like in the nineteen-thirties on Earth, although the materials are natural: cotton, wool, silk and linen, unlike on Earth after the Great Depression, when nylon came into use.

The Doctor can see Rose is drawn towards some colourful shawls.

“Ah, yes, that would be a good souvenir,” Regis assesses. “It’s hand-made locally. Nothing like this anywhere else.” He pays for it and hands the chosen shawl back to Rose with a flourish, who puts it over her t-shirt clad shoulders. She still doesn’t look like a local, but it’s charming anyway.

Two hours of snooping around later they find themselves close to food stalls, where Regis recommends some local delicacies. Rose tries some wine, while the Doctor sticks to a fizzy drink. They walk away from the fair-grounds, Rose’s one hand occupied by bags with souvenirs and the other with a piece of gingerbread. They’re still talking, comparing their worlds and admiring the sights, food and fashion.

Suddenly there’s a slight shift in the air, and Ciri appears in front of them in a halo of soft, green light.

“Hi! Geralt has a place of Power in his wine cellar, I recharged my batteries,” she says, beaming, “and I can do this again!”

She disappears from the place in front of them and appears ten metres to the right, then moves back to where she appeared first.

“This is your power?” Rose asks in awe. “That’s what it looks like?”

“Yeah, and it can be interplanetary if I put enough thought to it,” Ciri replies with a grin. “I call it a Jump.”

“Wow,” the Doctor sighs. They knew about magic in this world, but to see it first-hand is a totally different matter.

“Wanna try it?” Ciri asks cheerfully, reaching out towards the Doctor. Not only her power is recharged, her teenage energy is apparently back, too. She’s back with her dad in a safe environment. She can really rule the universe. “Come on, there’s dinner back at the house.”

“I can feel the shift in energy,” the Doctor admits. “It’s very slight, but I can guess it gets stronger the larger the distance. It’s probably how the TARDIS has found you, by tracking the ripples in the universe.”

“I hope I didn’t cause some interplanetary storm,” Ciri replies, although the huge grin on her face shows she doesn’t feel really guilty.

“I don’t think so, no. So, how does it work?” the Doctor asks, very tempted to grab her hand. She’s wiggling her fingers in invitation.

“As you said, shifting energy. I can take only one person with me, so, Mister Time Lord, what would you say to a short-distance space travel without a spaceship?” Ciri’s practically dancing with excitement.

Rose glances at Regis, who is smiling softly, looking at Ciri. Ciri going with the Doctor would leave Rose alone with the vampire. Ciri notices the look.

“Oh, so you know he’s a vampire? May I point out that he’s theoretically a prime target for my dad, and yet he still has all his limbs attached, not to mention they live in the same house, occupying the same bed?” she asks and raises her eyebrows at Rose. “I swear they’re in for the thrill.”

They all snort, Regis with some exasperation. Rose blushes slightly: even after travelling with Jack Harkness, she probably wouldn’t expect such a casual mention of inter-species, same sex… dancing.

“See you back at the house,” Ciri says, grabs the Doctor’s hand and then there’s a green halo around them, a second of deathly cold and pitch blackness and the Doctor finds himself in the courtyard in front of the now familiar villa.

“You travelled across the universe like that,” the Doctor breathes, looking into her sparkling eyes, still holding onto her hand.

“Yes. Got too far in panic,” Ciri admits, much calmer now. “And then I ran out of energy, and then you found me. Come on in, Regis and Rose should be back soon.”

* * *

The dinner is a happy affair, although neither Geralt or Ciri would admit who exactly made it. The food is simple but tasty, plentiful and made from ingredients both Rose and the Doctor can easily recognise. They share stories over the table, laugh together and it’s all very friendly and domestic. Even Geralt - now changed into black linen trousers and a simple, button-up white shirt - chats with them like he forgot the anguish he went through during the last six months. The witcher was never verbose, but he talks enough and asks enough polite questions to not seem to be too grumpy.

When it’s time for the Doctor and Rose to go, Ciri manages to convince the girl to be teleported back to the TARDIS. Regis stays at home, having bid his goodbyes; Geralt and the Doctor walk to the grove at a leisurely pace, both keeping their hands in their trousers pockets and looking down. They don’t talk much on the way: too much has changed since they’ve met for the first time. The Doctor regenerated a few times since then, and Geralt’s situation shifted from being regarded as someone very similar to the creatures he hunted to a person of importance to the rulers of this world, someone with a house, family and friends. Those fifty years ago Geralt didn’t have any of that. Now, even though he can’t get back home to Vizima before the situation around him calms down, he’s respected by the general population.

It’s like they’re both two absolutely different people than they were when they met.

Geralt took the Doctor’s regeneration in stride, used to seeing magical and unnatural events.

And that calm approach is something he shares with Ciri, the Doctor realises. The girl has seen faraway planets and is a powerful person of magic, although the topic of her abilities was carefully omitted during dinner. Geralt is old in human terms, about a century old, as far as the Doctor knows, and considering his profession it’s hard to surprise him anymore. The Doctor finds it refreshing, not having to explain why the TARDIS is bigger on the inside and how does he actually travel through time?

When they reach the TARDIS, the girls are lying on the grass, admiring the evening sky. They hop to their feet once they notice Geralt and the Doctor.

Ciri exchanges hugs with the Doctor and Rose; Geralt is slightly less approachable, but he gives them a strong handshake and a grateful smile.

The Doctor opens the TARDIS door and looks back at Geralt and Ciri - the father and daughter, the century-old witcher and the teenaged Lady of Time and Space; Geralt’s arm embracing Ciri’s waist, Ciri leaning against him, her ashen hair glinting in the evening sun.

Ciri smiles at the Doctor.

“You make a really cute couple,” she says, then turns serious. “She’s special, Doctor,” she adds, nodding at Rose, who is standing in the TARDIS’ door and looking at her with wide eyes. “For as long as you live, there will be no-one else like her.”

The Doctor wants to say “I know,” but it gets stuck in his throat, the words spoken by her in the TARDIS when they were alone, ‘I can see the future’, ringing in his head.

He nods and goes inside the TARDIS.

“Safe travels,” Geralt says as the door closes, leaving the world of monsters and magic behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All questions about those six months will probably be answered in the "Appearances" sequel. When - or if - I ever write it. ;)  
> Beta for the whole thing provided by [embeer2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004).


End file.
